Heirloom to Hand Me Down
by Silent Scribe
Summary: What connection did Sesshomaru have to something as simple as the robe of the fire rat?


_A/N: Once upon a time, I had a blankie...It never turned out have a cool history like in this story, though it still sits behind my favorite pillow. _

**Heirloom to Hand Me Down**

"That one, Papa! Don't forget it!"

"Sesshomaru," was all Inu no Taisho managed as he heaved a sigh. Exasperated, he dangled the large, burgundy blanket by its frayed edges. "This is a rag. It's time you got a new – "

"But it's my favorite!" The young daiyokai pleaded with all the passion of a seven-year-old human. "Don't 'cha remember how it was our first hunt together an' you said we were real lucky 'cause fire rats are so rare nowadays? Huh? I wanna keep it, Papa!"

The Dog General kneaded his brow, he should have known better than to let his son find sentimental value in base objects; but now he looked down at the sad, decrepit cloth with new eyes, and didn't dare meet Sesshomaru's watery gaze.

"I'll tell you what," he grumbled at last. "Let me borrow this for a couple of days."

" 'Kay, but don't think I'll forget!"

Inu no Taisho exited with a pretentious chuckled. That was exactly what he'd been hoping.

oOo

The Dog General fidgeted. Even his own worst enemies didn't watch him with this intensity.

"Sesshomaru, why are you glaring so at your father?"

Sesshomaru didn't bother turning around at the icy draft. He recognized his mother's presence.

"I'm waiting for my blanket," he stated sternly despite his childish stature.

The Western Lady blinked slowly. "There are a million more where it came from" – eyes shifted to her mate – "Sesshomaru."

Inu no Taisho winced.

"You're teaching him to place empathy on everything! If he grows up like you, I doubt it not."

She left father and son to their affairs.

"So where's my blanket?"

With no small amount of drama, the Great Dog trudged down the hall and into the fourth room.

"The sewing loom? What're we doing here?" A cacophony of clacks and hisses bombarded sensitive canine ears.

"We're just making a pick up. Ta da!"

Instantly, Sesshomaru's eyes glittered at the sight of his restored blanket. No, not restored, rather reincarnated! He slipped into the new haori, its sleeves drooping past his own tiny hands, but he paid no mind.

The cloth had a resplendent sheen and still maintained the scents of so many memories.

Suddenly, remembering his manners, Sesshomaru whirled around and bowed deeply to his father. "I thank you with all my gratitude, _Chichi-ue_."

Inu no Taisho just chuckled that lazy thunder of his. "It's yours to keep, my little son."

With a grin wide enough to flash fang, Sesshomaru obeyed.

oOo

Canines, cleaned. Talons, immaculate. Mokomoko, fluffed to dreamy softness. Sesshomaru mentally ran down the checklist as he brushed the final strokes through his light silvery mane.

Kojiki, the finest painter poison claws could persuade, had finally arrived for the family portrait. More importantly, so had Father. Inu no Taisho had certainly been spending his time away from home more often than usual; Sesshomaru harbored his suspicions of an extra-marital affair, but what business of his was that?

"Young master."

The dog-demon was shaken from his reveries by a hand-servant.

"What is it?"

"Well, uh," the lesser yokai stammered, increasingly aware of his former discourtesy. "W-what shall I do about this?" He held up an old jacket. It's ruddy material made brown by a fine layer of dust after sitting carefully preserved for centuries.

Sesshomaru tried to recognize it -- the scent was much too muddled. "Put it back wherever you found it." Whatever it had been he could ascertain later.

The subordinate didn't dare question his master's command, though as he scurried down the hall he couldn't help noticing the gleaming Dog General's leer that tracked the decrepit cloth.

oOo

Silent as a thief in the night, he picked up the old fire rat robe and nearly sneezed from all the dust that was imbedded in the cloth.

It really was fine fabric now that he fingered it again.

_Just needs a good washing. _

Imitating a shadow, he slipped out and stuffed the neglected garment under his armor.

_Well, my boy, it seems you've out grown even your precious memories. Ah, but waste not, want not. _

And he stole away.

oOo

Inu no Taisho had died, but there was nothing for it. Sesshomaru wouldn't idle his time mourning. There was territory to be claimed.

Throwing open the screen, he strode into his room to collect some old maps.

That's all, he assured himself. Yet now he dug past vintage memories -- his first practice blade, award-winning calligraphy, a tooth-marked elk bone -- but where was it?

"He took the fire-rat robe with him."

Sesshomaru whirled to see his mother leaning in the threshold.

"I never said I was looking for that."

"Of course not," she breathed in a singsong voice. "You don't say much these days."

A sudden rise in yoki turned the air stifling.

"Well, whatever you seek, the map was set on your table all along. You ought to be more perceptive." She slipped out and sometime later so did Sesshomaru.

He left the rolled parchment behind.

oOo

Talons thirsted for the brat's blood, but that might stain the magnificence of the cloth.

"Lord Sesshomaru," Izaiyoi shuffled uneasily on the veranda. "To what honor do we owe this visit?"

Inu no Taisho's first born didn't so much as glance in her direction. Sesshomaru let the full weight of his glower weigh on the toddler. After twenty years, he'd finally gotten around to confirming his curiosity -- the daiyokai refused to label it fear -- and, much to his private mortification, he was correct.

Inuyasha vaguely wondered why the strange man's eyes glowed funny when all he did was wipe his nose on his sleeve.

"Is there anything --"

"I have nothing to discuss with you, woman." Sesshomaru nearly wished he could cut Izaiyoi short more than just verbally. Still, flashing somewhere in the back of his skull was how petty it would be to kill over a robe. He, the new Western Lord, would not stoop to such sentimental lows.

"Big buther?" the tiny child inquired.

Repulsed, Sesshomaru decided he'd wasted enough daylight acknowledging "familial ties." The tiny snot was half-demon, half a person. He'd see his own mother age before him, but perhaps he'd prove useful to unlocking some of Father's secrets. The brat already wore one of them.

"Stay out of my way." Those were the only kind words Sesshomaru would ever offer with any departure.

_Let the day this Sesshomaru sends his brother to Hell be over something of value. Not memories already forsaken. _

_oOo_

_A/N: Hee, hee...I finally found an instance where I can use the line "this Sesshomaru" and sound relatively natural. - Thank you for reading! (Cuddles blanket) _


End file.
